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urbpan
Alexis stands before the stalks of Japanese knotweed (#10, Fallopia japonica). This area of knotweed growth appears to have spread from some deliberately planted specimens. The plant has become such a poster species for troublesome invasives, that it's hard to remember sometimes that it was intentionally introduced. Its extensive system of underground stems helps to limit soil erosion, and it grows amazingly fast. The fresh young sprouts are edible to humans, and the grown plants are harvested and stored as winter forage for zoo animals. Unfortunately, it forms monocultural stands that compete with native plants, and reduce the number and variety of animals where these stands occur. We're digging it out, but we know it will be a long-term ongoing project.
Last year's stalks attached to a root ball, with this year's buds emerging. I hacked the stalks down with my machete, which was fun, but it could have been accomplished as efficiently with a whiffleball bat. Japanese knotweed was 365 urban species #129 and had multiple appearances in the muddy river project and the daily urban nature project.
Oriental bittersweet (#11: Celastrus orbiculatus) winds itself around a picket. I have an even greater antipathy for this plant than I do for knotweed. I suppose this is because I have personally battled it (at Drumlin farm) on many occasions, spending hours and hours cutting vines, pulling and untangling them from suffering trees and shrubs, and especially tugging at the bright orange roots, which seem to go on for miles. A small vine with the diameter of a pencil will turn out to have roots that extend ten feet away, wrapped up in the roots of neighboring woody plants. It's a process that seems to have no end.
The foliage and attractive red berries are toxic to mammals, but birds eat the latter. Dry arrangements of this plant are popular, hopefully less popular these days, and it's thought that discarded wreaths and such are responsible for much of its spread. Oriental bittersweet has become one of the most common and recognizable plants in New England forests, especially those in cities and towns.
This vine is not only wrapped around the fence, but the largest root (I pulled out 30 feet of smaller root) is embedded in the concrete of a small retaining wall. On the advice of a horticulturalist friend, I'm planning to wait a week or so to tackle this one. Then I'll cut this largest stalk, and paint herbicide on the stump. Oriental bittersweet was 365 urban species #2, and has appeared numerous times in this journal, mainly during the winter when it is very photogenic.
Garlic mustard (#12: Alliaria petiolata) is a biennial weed, first appearing as a harmless-looking rosette as seen here. The second year growth is a 2 to 4 foot weed with four-petaled white flowers. This insidious invasive is seriously endangering the native forest wildflowers of North America. It grows and flowers early, producing lots of tiny seeds, and can grow in deep shade in the habitat trillium and other disappearing wildflowers require. Garlic mustard also produces anti-fungal chemicals that inhibit the mycorrhizal partners of neighboring plants. (80% of all plant species, including all orchid species, require mycorrhizae to survive.) I wrote a PSA on this blog about this species, and it has appeared here on numerous other occasions, including as 365 urban species #116.
